A blessing, or a curse?
by Squeek
Summary: The story that has got an ending - and yes - it is both short and probably wierd - and that's because I started in the middle of the story :) Read and review(!), and I hope you enjoy it.
1. The calm before the storm

Disclaimer: These things that I write about do not belong to me, but I am borrow them to tell you a story. My work is merely meant for entertainment and not to be used for personal profit in any way.  
  
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To a surface dweller, she might have passed undetected only a foot away. But this were no city of surface dwellers, this were Athlar'Novis, a city of drows. The padded footfalls of Nidraitza's lizard mount were barely noticeable, but to elven ears, they were easily heard. The three-toed lizard calmly crept forwards, its dark mistress sitting on its back.  
  
With faint melancholy Nidraitza looked out over the city, in which she used to live. In the middle of the cave-city stood a stone pillar, which back in Nidraitza's days used to glow with a faint crimson glow. But now the pillar was damaged and the tip had fallen off. The recent duegar invasion had taken its toll on the drow city, which no longer stood as mighty as it once had. But this was a part of the past, and she knew it. But she could not repress the memories, which this city was filled with.  
  
Angrily she shook her head free of the memories and continued forwards. The cold one's calm steps carried her swiftly forwards. She reached the gates to Tier Breche, the academy. The gates slowly swung open, the sound of metal scraping against metal rang out clearly and the cold one took a cautious step backwards.  
  
Nidraitza jabbed her fist against the cold one's neck, who obediently continued forwards, through the enormous adamantite gates. She passed Sorcere, an enormous tower, in where the drow city's mages where trained. She also passed Melee-Magthere, a pyramid shaped building. In there she had spent seven years, training, studying the arts of melee battle as well as tactical missions and full-scale wars. She could remember how some of the other student had been shocked to see a female who entered Melee-Magthere instead of Arach-Tinilith, the temple of Lloth and the place were the teaching of new priestesses took place. It was there she was going this evening.  
  
Arach-Tinilith, the spider shaped temple of Lloth lied before her, this was the most sacred place in the city. She dismounted her lizard, and walked up the stairs towards the temple. She turned around and caught the lizard with her eyes, "You will await my return!" she spoke in the tongue of drows. The lizard slowly lied down on the ground, still fixating its eyes on the drow. 


	2. The change

Once again Nidraitza turned towards the temple, she took a deep breath to steady herself, and entered. The great temple was dimly lit, with dark purple flames, which seemed to hang in the air. She confidently continued on, passing a large donation pit, in where a couple of goblin slaves where slowly starving to death, as spiders fed of their decaying bodies, as they lied on the ground shaking out of famine and pain.  
  
She continued, passing the donation pit, and several other rooms, until she reached the temple's inner sanctum, a large, dark room. The room was completely dark, unlike the rest of the temple. It took Nidraitza a couple of seconds to adjust her vision towards the infrared spectrum. In the middle of the room was a hole, perhaps 4 feet in diameter. At the northern wall stood a large, altar made out of pure adamantite. A lone silhouette was kneeling in front of the altar, quietly praying.  
  
As Nidratitza entered the room the silhouette rose, and slowly turned around. Judging by the female drow's robes the drow was a high priestess, but not the highest ranking. She nodded slightly towards Nidraitza and took a step away from the altar.  
  
"We have been waiting for you" she spoke. "Are you ready for what is to come?"  
  
"Yes, I am." Nidraitza answered with a voice filled with confidence.  
  
"The let it begin!" The high priestess stated.  
  
Several other high priestesses entered the room behind Nidraitza and they all took their place in front of the altar. All the matron mothers from the highest-ranking houses had entered, all except the matron mother from the first house.  
  
Suddenly everything exploded, from the hole in the ground shot a dark red pillar of fire. The intensity of the light shocked Nidraitza who fell to the floor, clutching her face as her eyes still burned with agony. Slowly the pain faded and Nidraitza slowly opened her eyes, the pillar still burned strong, but now she had time to adjust her eyes. Slowly she got to her feet, still trembling from the initial shock of lightning.  
  
The matron mother of the first house had arrived during the time when Nidraitza had been stunned. She was dressed in a thin, black robe, emblazoned "spider silk." She calmly regarded Nidraitza while she was sharpening a black, slightly curved dagger, with a spider shaped handle. Her eyes locked with Nidraitza's and she spoke "Come child, it is time."  
  
Like a snake shedding skin, Nidraitza rolled her shoulders and her thick robe slid of her torso and fell to the stone floor with a soft thud. Naked she walked up to the altar, where she was instructed to lay down. Two drow priestesses shackled her wrists and legs while the matron mother walked up besides her.  
  
She slowly lifted the dagger, raised it high above her head, both her hands firmly clasped around the handle. Then she swung it downwards in a wide arc.  
  
Nidraitza's eyes blackened and then came pain.  
  
Excruciating pain beyond comprehension. 


	3. Pain

Anguish . Pain . Rebirth.  
  
As the pain slowly died away Nidraitza forced her eyes open. Her vision was blurred, and some how, altered. The world no longer was what it once had been, the clear dancing light of her heating seeing vision seemed dulled, everything seemed to move in slow-motion.  
  
"Ahh, you awaken my child." Spoke a soft voice in Nidraitza's ear, and slowly she turned her head to face her addresser.  
  
A lithe drow priestess, dressed in a flowing cowl stood a few inches from Nidraitza. The priestess smiled and approached Nidraitza, "So, you survived, what a pity."  
  
Rage ignited within Nidraitza's body and she tried to heave her self to her feet, but something was wrong, her body was no longer that of a drow. With panic and sheer horror she let her gaze travel over her image, her once slender shape had been deformed, mutilated. Her lower half had been morphed into that of a spider, with eight, spear-like arachnid legs. Her chest was swollen and mutilated, her arms slightly twisted.  
  
She was cursed. No longer drow, but drider.  
  
A low scream escaped Nidraitza's clasped lips as she instinct ruled her body; she exploded into motion, her movements erratic and quick, her eight legs clicking against the adamantite floor in an agitated tempo. Swiftly her new legs pulled her over to the priestess, she brought her hands up as if to throttle the drow who had done this to her, the one who had raped her of her elven shape, and cursed her forever.  
  
But the priestess merely laughed, and jumped out of range for Nidraitza's arms. "Ohaz" the priestess uttered and a burst of electricity jolted through the drider's body. Nidraitza twitched violently before her eight legs gave way to her body, and she crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. Unconsciousness claimed her.  
  
A dark voice ringed like a bell in her head, "You are mine, drider. Now and forever." 


	4. Malady

Memories, so many memories. Pain, so much pain.  
  
Nidraitza writhed and twisted as she tried to free herself of the veil of darkness which had unfolded itself over her - but to no avail. Some inner fire raged within her, rippling through her heaped body like a tide of water as it shook her bones in a vibrating crescendo. Her head throbbed and pulsated as it radiated waves of pain across her cranium and down through her spine.  
  
Her eyelids wouldn't move - just as if they were sealed shut by an unknown force. But the rest of her body was moving on its own accord - her arachnid legs stretching out to embrace the cold floor. Her movements were slow and erratic, but leading forwards. A soft voice murmured in her head, "Come to me, cast down the pain."  
  
Nidraitza tried to reel away - tried to steer her body away from the course which it had chosen, but her legs moved on their own accord, pulling her towards some unknown destination.  
  
But her movements suddenly seemed so... trivial... as memories surged through her mind along with the waves of fiery pain.  
  
She could clearly remember how she had been raised as a priestess, like all other drow females of noble heritage. Faint memories of a scouting mission flashed through her head and as slight gasp escaped her tightly clenched lips; this was the reason why she had been cursed, this is why she was to suffer the greatest punishment of drow society - driderhood.  
  
She had failed, she had failed her house, by letting the svirfneblins that they had been hunting survive. But there had to be more, there had to be more reasons for this - driderhood was not given out lightly, and a failure like that surely didn't deserve this curse.  
  
A second wave of pain shook up through her body, slamming against her temples like sledges against anvils. A trickle of crimson erupted from her ears and ran down her chins and along with it, her memories.  
  
Slowly the pain began to diminish and the gossamer veil of darkness was lifted from her eyes. The soft voice spoke once again, this time not in Nidraitza's mind, "Arise drider - no longer tormented by memories you are." 


	5. Dancing towers

Ithire Ce'thilen's lips curled into a wicked grin - how beautiful the Spider Queen's plot had been, how chaotic - but what else could be expected by the goddess of Chaos, Confusion and Disorder? Underneth her trundled Nidraitza De'iytuh - or rather - what was left her. This once so promising warrior, now she was a drider - an abomination.  
  
But Ithire had nothing to complain about, why should she complain? A potential enemy had been crushed, and more would fall - all because of the sins commited by house De'iytuh in the past - now they would pay.  
  
Ithire grinned once more and patted the former priestess whom she was using as a mount at the moment. The drider quickly moved through the city - those obsidian legs clicking faintly with every impact on the ground of the cave. The city of Athlar'Novis - once mighty and beautiful, but it had lost the favour of the Spider Queen. And with out the favour of their goddess - the city had quickly fallen to a svirneblin invasion.  
  
The svirfneblins - nothing more but gnomes, but they had assaulted the drow city in quick and devastating raids - calling up ancient earth magic to defeat the slender drow soldiers and goblin slaves which the drow threw back at them. But without clerical magic - the battle was in vain. Major portions of the city had been ravaged - destroyed.  
  
Little of what had been destroyed was re-built - but the surviving drow houses hid within their compounds - seeking redemption and the favour of the Spider Queen. Some had found it - others had not.  
  
Ithire and her house had been promised redemption and the full glory of Lloth's favour - if she were to deal with the priestess of house De'iytuh. One had already fallen to her - one was left. And the thought of using Nidraitza to destroy the other priestess, Alie, seemed ever so appealing. House De'iytuh will fall - but by their own hand. Ithire mused to herself, almost purring at the thought.  
  
Soon they approached the De'iytuh palace - although house De'iytuh was one of small power, they possessed one of the most intricate and beautiful palaces. Unlike the other palaces this one was not a part of a wall, it stood freely in the middle of a small cave.  
  
Black spires and towers shot from the building, like tendrils of pure darkness. Thick at the bottom but growing thinner as the lengths of them soared up towards the cavern ceiling. They twined about each other, like vines as the lunged from side-to-side, dancing in an ever-moving eclipse of time. Amazed - as always - Ithire beheld the spectacle of house De'iytuh, their perhaps greatest accomplishment - the spires and towers of their palaces.  
  
Skilfully crafted magic along with subtle use of gossamer strands of clerical devotion was what enabled the towers to move - in a never-ceasing resistance of time and reason. But only a building - a building soon to be razed, thought Ithire as she urged her steed to move up to the thick, adamantite gates of the palace. A large, silver spider decorated the gate, its eight legs sprayed open to as if to embrace the door. Gossamer cords of mithril stretched between the spider's legs, as if to portray spider silk.  
  
She cast her gaze over to the door, then she turned her mind inwards - focusing every ounce of her faith on the door. "Wishya!" She cried out, her voice carrying the full potency of the Spider Queen's wrath. A loud, screeching sound erupted from the gate, quickly followed by a thumping sign as the gate was knocked of it hinges - the adamantite door seemed to implode upon itself, the edges turning in to embrace the heart of the door. "Wishya!" And before she had finished her second cry the door was bashed to the ground by some invisible force and the wrecked gate tumbled backwards and towards the palace.  
  
Guards poured out through the main gate - eager to face what ever assailant had dared to attack the palace. But all dropped dead in their tracks as their eyes focused upon the drider and its rider, Ithire Ce'thilen, the High Priestess of Arach-Tinilith and the Matron Mother of house Ce'thilen - first house of Athlar'Novis.  
  
"I will say this once - and once alone. Raise your weapons against me - and terrible doom will await you, perhaps you may even join your... lost sister." Ithire patted Nidraitza on the head lightly, her lips curled into a wicked grin as her gaze met her audience. "This will not take long - my presence will go un-noticed, and by tomorrow might house De'iytuh have regained some of its lost favour. Now stand back and let us pass." 


	6. Entwined in darkness

After a few moments of agonizing contemplation they scattered, the drow guards breaking their lines and allowing the drider and its dark mistress entrance into the De'iytuh palace. A scuttling echo of faint clicks followed the drider as it trundled forwards - past the huge adamantite gates and towards the main part of the building.  
  
Ithire took a deep breath as if to steady herself - trying to calm her heart which suddenly had jumped into a more fanatic pace; its once steady beat was now agitated and erratic. Excitement and ecstasy were probing their way through her mind as she turned her fiery eyes towards the roof of the palace - letting her crimson orbs register the calm and mesmerizing dance of the spires. Such a marvel - it's almost a pity that those beautiful spires are doomed, she mused to herself, tearing her eyes away from the towers and nudging her steed to move once more.  
  
The drider slipped into the palace - legs clicking against what ever it set its feet upon. Dragging itself forwards - the spear-like legs gripping both floor and walls as it moved. Ithire absently ran her fingers over the head of her whip - patting the snake-head that protruded from the hilt of the whip. Such a wonderful weapon this was - crippling beyond comprehension, the pain that it could deal was feared through out the realm of Underdark. The snake-head nuzzled closer to Ithire, nudging her gently with its snout.  
  
"Turn left," she whispered to the drider - her voice carrying a certain amount of command even though it was still low. The drider nodded slightly and reeled to the left - moving into a long, thin corridor. Thin cords of silver snaked their way through the ceiling of the corridor - glowing faintly, pulsating with a strange flickering light. Strange paintings covered the walls - the paintings radiated vague warmth - allowing them to be viewed in the heat-sensing spectrum as well as the normal eye.  
  
The drider reached up to a door and skidded to a halt - turning around slightly to look up at its master with those glazed over orbs which had once been the eyes of Nidraitza. Stay here, commanded Ithire in the silent language - her fingers dancing through the command. Understand me, drider? Her fingers danced once more - and she awaited the arachnid's answer.  
  
Yes, the drider responded - its fingers flickering through the words. I understand.  
  
A faint grin grazed Ithire's lips as she quietly chanted a prayer to Lloth - praying for an ectoplasmic form that would allow her to slip through the door's material. Her outline flickered slightly - beads of magic chasing through her skin as trickles of dark blue light snaked over her body.  
  
Slowly she extended a hand towards the door - pressing the palm of her hand against the thin adamantite door - it offered resistance to her touch at first. Suddenly a sliver of crimson erupted from the area around her hands and her fingers began to meld with the metal, slowly slipping through the material of the door. She tilted her head against the door - pressing her forehead against the cold metal - slowly she began to sink through, like a gossamer membrane of tightly wrapped spider silk it bulged and flexed as her entire face sank into the metal. She pressed another palm through the door - quickly following it with a long, slender leg - then she pulled herself all the way through.  
  
The room which she had stepped into was dark, unlit - but no light was needed for a drow - she focused her mind on her eyes, forcing them over into the infra-red spectrum. There - on a large bed a few feet in front of her lied two shapes - their limbs entwined and they moved as one - their faces closely locked together. A smirk snuck its way into Ithire's face as she gripped her whip once more - her ebony fingers hugging closer to the hilt as she took a quiet step forwards - her eyes fixated on the two tangled silhouettes of heat.  
  
How could they not have noticed me coming? Ithire pondered to herself - she knew that her entrance had been heard through large parts of the city of Athlar'Novis - the crumbling and blasting of an adamantite door did make quite the ruckus after all. Then it hit her - this room was completely silent, all except for the muffled moans that managed to escape the entwined silhouettes. A room isolated from the surrounding world's sounds? Interesting... and how very fortunate for me.  
  
For a moment she stood still, letting her eyes travel over the two tightly folded figures. Who would have thought - the high priestess of house De'iytuh - a slave to simple Ssinssrigg - lust. She ran a finger along the head of her whip once more - tracing her finger between the lidless eyes of the serpent which only stared back at her - its pupils nothing more but slits.  
  
She lifted her arm in a lazy motion - raising it towards the ceiling, only to bring it down, sending a lash through her arm and out through the whip that she wielded. The snake head of her wicked weapon was lunged forwards - its maw opened - crippling venom dripping from those large fangs that were clearly bared. The head speeded towards the two silhouettes - moving faster than most would have thought possible. And it struck true! 


	7. Confusion and Disorder

A sharp wail pierced the silence in the room as a pair of venom-coated fangs dug deep into ebon flesh - sending radiating trickles of pain through the victim. With a quick flick of a wrist the snakehead of the whip was drawn downwards in a devastating tugging motion that tore away chunks of flesh and skin from the screaming drow.  
  
Ithire shivered involuntarily in pleasure - there was nothing she loved more than the agonized screams of her enemies - screams that carried potent promises of her future power. Once more she lashed out with the whip and she was rewarded with yet another wonderful scream of pain. The two entwined shapes that lay huddled together on the bed screamed in agony - their voices pounding against the walls in a booming cacophony.  
  
Victory was her! She had prevailed - the High Priestess and Matron of house De'iytuh was at her mercy - and she would soon die. A wavering tide of pleasure rolled out through Ithire's body with every scream that erupted from the couple on the bed - never before had the pain of others been this wonderful.  
  
The white silken sheets were coloured crimson - and the wailing screams were diminishing in strength. They were. dieing. The whip lashed down on the couple a few more times and like a predator Ithire stalked up to the elves on the bed. A visage of horror is what she laid eyes upon - two drow shapes lay sprawled out on the bed - all skin torn from their body - almost as if it had been peeled away from them. Large chunks of flesh were missing and a few white pieces of bone jutted out through the damaged muscles and sinew.  
  
This was it - she had done as she had been told - she had proven her strength to the Spider Queen - she would be rewarded! Of this she was sure - for who other than she would be more fit to govern the city of Athlar'Novis. Who other than Ithire Ce'thilen had the power to rule?  
  
She revelled in the pleasure of the kill - in the pleasure of the power soon to be hers. The spires - the dancing towers - those would be relocated - yes, they would. Such a beautiful gift would not be wasted - it, along with the power, was her price. Enthralled by the promise of power - and confident in herself she was - to the degree that she did not hear the quiet chanting behind her.  
  
A low, methodical voice whispered a silent prayer behind Ithire's back - and the power of the prayer was unleashed as the voice rose to a deafening crescendo - "Rrothy'la sshatul Wishnu!"  
  
A trembling shock of pain snaked its way up through Ithire's body - who found that her muscles were cramping, hobbling back and forth and sending her crashing to the ground. Her eyes were glazed over by a gossamer sheath of crimson pain and to her horror she felt how her limbs were twisting. Her eyes blurred in pain as a burning sensation etched its way into her stomach - igniting her innards.  
  
Through the gossamer veil she was able to see her attacker - the Matron Mother of House De'iytuh.  
  
No - how could this be - how could she stand alive? How could she use the prayers of Lloth - she was out of favour - she was doomed! No! Ithire's mind began spinning as it fell into a deep misty gloom - her pain incapacitating her beyond measure. Betrayal - the Spider Queen had abandoned her - and for the first time in her life - Ithire shook in terror at the thought of death. Tendrils of darkness stretched out towards her - with a last scream her life was torn from her body - and the ebony shell of her body fell to the ground.  
  
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-  
  
The Matron Mother of House De'iytuh smiled to herself as she watched Ithire struggle with insanity and pain - how wonderful the Spider Queen's plan had been - how. chaotic. But that was to be expected after all.  
  
House De'iytuh's era had begun - and glory laid ahead - all the drow world would tremble at the very mentioning of the name De'iytuh. She purred to herself as she picked up Ithire's whip - the trademark of a Priestess of Lloth. The whips could only be wielded by a person in Lloth's favour - but yet. Ithire had wielded one of the whips.  
  
Realization struck her like bolt of lightning and she spun around towards the door - only to find herself staring into the dead eyes of her former sister, Nidraitza. Her face was deformed - swollen. The flesh around her mouth had been torn away - her eyes had been slashed and the fluttered slightly with every movement of the arachnid drider. Clasped firmly in the drider's hands were a long, wicked spear - a pair of silver spiders etched into the blade, staring out towards the Matron Mother.  
  
"You really did not think that you would sssurvive - did you? You have wronged the Ssspider Queen - jussst asss the other one did." The drider hissed out with the greatest of efforts - saliva spraying from it's lipless mouth.  
  
"Wishya!" She knew the attempt was in vain - she had never had the Spider Queen's favour - the prayer would be in vain. But the spell was a reflex - whenever in danger - the Matron mother used it. But this time - it did not work.  
  
The drider titled its head to the side and watch ed her with an intent gaze - a slight coughing sound erupted from the drider's stomach and it jolted its head forwards. A spray of acidic saliva erupted from within the drider and was directed towards the Matron Mother - who realised to late what the drider was doing.  
  
With a whimpering scream she sunk down to one knee - her eyes burning in pain as they were covered in acid. Another crack of pain shot through her as something cold was shoved through her chest - penetrating her heart and slamming her down against the ground. Life abandoned the Matron Mother even before she struck the ground - so perfect had the drider's aim been.  
  
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-  
  
On her throne - hidden within a mist of gloom - sat Lloth, the Spider Queen and goddess of Chaos, Confusion and Disorder. How she thrived in the chaos - her lips curling into a wicked smile as she watched the drow perform her tasks. Their world - so ruled by chaos - deceit looming over them wherever they turned. But such was the realm of the Spider Queen - and those who had not her favour quickly suffered death. And those who had her favour - quickly lost it. The Maiden of Confusion sat back and watched her race of choice - watched them trying to appease her.  
  
Confusion - Chaos - Disorder. The rules that forever ruled the society of the drow. 


End file.
